


Role Reversal

by killyhawk



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killyhawk/pseuds/killyhawk
Summary: Shaw's a hunter and it's Root season.





	Role Reversal

It started out somewhere between a dream and a fantasy. A way to kill time. Shaw had woken up in the early hours of the morning, aroused, and couldn't get back to sleep, so she decided to roll with it. There wasn't even a question as to whom she wanted to feel against her as her imaginary bedmate. How long had it been since Root had appeared from the shadows and followed her home? Too long. And Shaw hadn't orgasmed since.

Laying on her back, Shaw imagined a smooth pale thigh settled firmly between her own, with Root grinding desperately against her. Her hips rose of their own accord at the thought, craving that friction and contact. She could almost hear Root's fast and ragged breathing in her ear, feel her soft hair brushing her face. Her hands were clutching the sheets, but Shaw envisioned them wandering to Root's backside, squeezing that perfect ass and pulling her harder against herself. Root would moan approvingly, she knew, and the thought made a noise escape her own throat. She wanted to feel Root biting her neck like a vampire, and Shaw would repay her in kind by flexing her jaw and enveloping the scar on her left shoulder - the one Shaw had put there all those months ago. Shaw acknowledging the scar always seemed to turn Root on, in a weird way. Maybe it was because she liked a little pain - liked the reminder that Shaw was unpredictable and dangerous. Maybe, in contrast to where they were that day, any intimacy between them seemed unbelievable and overwhelming. Maybe she liked being reminded that she had successfully wooed her once-upon-a-time adversary. Shaw didn't know and didn't particularly care. She just liked the whimpers, yelps, and/or moans that Root invariably made when she bit her there.

Shaw groaned low in her throat and rolled her hips futilely against the woman who wasn't there. She wanted to open her eyes and see that face, usually so smug and self-satisfied, completely awash in arousal, completely at her mercy. Shaw relished the power she had over the reformed killer-for-hire. She knew it went both ways, but it was undeniable that she could make Root's breath catch with an unexpected come-on, make her eyes dilate with the slow removal of her outer layers of clothing, make her lose all her inhibitions when she was above or beneath her in bed.

Shaw ground her teeth and squeezed her inner muscles, but the slender digits that needed to be buried inside her still weren't there.

"Fuck!" She was sweaty now, and mad at herself for getting so worked up - mad at Root for not being there to take the brunt of that aggression. The Root in her mind was smirking now, taunting her.

"Fuck you," Shaw hissed at the apparition. There was no way she was getting another wink of sleep, she knew, unless she dealt with the pent-up pressure between her legs, so she relinquished her grip on the sheets to let her fingers travel down her body. Her index and middle finger slid in almost without resistance, she was so sopping wet, and it didn't take but a minute before she was bucking irregularly against her own hand, muscles tense.

Shaw collapsed with a loud sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Even if it didn't make sense, she decided Root was going to pay for this next time she saw her.

\---------------------------------

The sun rose on Shaw’s day off from the makeup counter, and she was determined to not waste a minute of it. A five minute shower and she was out the door, dressed in her customary peacoat with a plain black t-shirt underneath. She grabbed a muffin and some coffee on the way to Doyers Street, knowing that even if Finch hadn’t called her yet, there was a good chance he’d have some moron for her to save by the time she got there. She wasn’t secretly hoping to find a certain tall, pale brunette in the subway station. That would just be a… happy coincidence.

Before she even reached the bottom of the stairs Bear was running over to greet her. She gave him a “hey” and a scratch behind the ears as she continued making her way into the hideout. The briefest, smallest jolt of pleasure coursed through her when she looked across the space and saw Root standing over Harold, both of them glued to the computer. Root was sporting a pair of black-rimmed glasses (probably for the cover identity of the day), and it turned out Shaw really dug the librarian look. The frames complimented her angular nose in a way that made Shaw gnaw the inside of her cheek in frustration.

Whatever they were talking about just reached her ears as nerdy muttering. Shaw filtered it out and instead kept her eyes on Root, who was somehow so preoccupied with whatever Finch was saying that she hadn’t even acknowledged her yet. Shaw’s expression remained neutral, but she frowned inwardly at that. Normally her entrance was met with a bright smile and an overly affectionate greeting. Root being distracted could mean bad news awaited.

But Shaw was soon distracted herself. She watched Root unconsciously run fingers through her hair, fanning her soft tresses over her shoulders as she leaned closer to the screen. Shaw felt hyper aware of every movement her lithe body made, and seeing her bent over the work table wasn’t helping. She was already contemplating how to get her alone when Harold abruptly stood and collected his briefcase.

“Professor Whistler is supposed to be giving an exam in thirty minutes,” he told Root. “I trust I can leave this in your capable hands?” Root smiled reassuringly.

“Not a problem, Harry. One nasty virus sent their way and they’ll be chasing their tails.”

“Keep me apprised,” Harold requested before turning to Shaw. “Ah. Good morning, Miss Shaw. You’ll be happy to hear the Machine hasn’t given us a number all morning, so... I suppose you have the day off.”

Past Harold’s shoulder, Root waggled her eyebrows at Shaw, a conspiratory smile already playing on her lips.

“This is New York. There’s always a number.”

“I was surprised, too, but the Machine seems certain.” Harold shrugged it off. “In any case, I’ll be back in the afternoon. Please walk Bear before you go.” And with that he headed for the stairs.

The women regarded each other silently for a moment: Shaw taking a sip of her coffee and Root cocking her head invitingly. When Shaw realized she was going to want her hands free, she made her way to the table and put the cup down less than an arm’s length away from Root. The hacker didn’t move.

Shaw stared her down with an intensity she knew would make most women quail, but Root just smiled serenely when they locked eyes.

“Well you look happy to see me,” Root noted with her usual smugness, her face already beaming. Shaw smiled darkly.

“For once I am,” she half-lied. In a flash Shaw grabbed Root by her slender arms and forced her backwards across the floor, shoving her hard against the side of the subway car. Root cried out at the forceful expulsion of air from her lungs, but had no time to recover before the shorter woman’s lips collided with hers, making her intentions clear if no less violent.

Shaw kissed her long and hard, still pinning her to the car, and when they broke apart Root instinctively went for Shaw’s biceps, pushing experimentally and hoping for some give and take. At this silent inquiry Shaw gripped her even tighter and slammed her back into position. It must have hurt, but Root’s eyes were already turning glassy in eagerness and acceptance. It wasn’t like Shaw to deny her… dominate her. Some role reversal could be fun.

Shaw’s dark eyes pierced right through her, daring her to move, before she dipped her head and started working on Root’s neck: sucking, licking, biting. Root threw her head back and gasped at the feel of Shaw’s warm mouth on her skin after so long, and the thigh that was already pressed firmly between her legs. Her eyes widened when she realized just how aggressively Shaw was making out with her neck; this much suction was bound to leave a mark.

“Shaw.” Root grabbed the other woman’s hips to get her attention. Normally Shaw avoided giving Root hickies (she figured it was a privacy thing), and it seemed courteous to let her know that’s where this was going if she didn’t let up.

Shaw nipped her neck. Hard. She knew what she was about. Let the boys see. Let everyone see. Root was hers.

“Jeez, at least buy a girl dinner first,” Root teased, even as she pulled Shaw’s hips against her.

“Like you’d eat it anyway,” Shaw smirked into the crook of her neck and went right back to sucking.

“You can’t blame me for having... _other_ appetites,” she purred and hooked her fingers into the straps of Shaw’s jeans, pulling her just a little closer and thrusting suggestively. Shaw hummed happily into her neck.

“Mm. And it’s my job to sate you.” Root hissed in surprise and felt her inner muscles tighten. Shaw might act possessive, but she didn’t usually _talk_ possessive. She bottled that voice clip in her mind for future appreciation.

Root wanted to feel skin, but the heavy coat was everywhere. Ignoring Shaw’s grip on her arms, Root raised her hands toward the coat’s lapels, tugging at them to get her message across. Shaw relinquished her grip long enough to shed the coat, then reconnected with a kiss, her hands now flat against the car on either side of Root’s face.

Root slid her freed hands up the back of Shaw’s shirt and raked a trail with her black-painted nails. Shaw growled approvingly, now kissing her way down Root’s throat and across her collarbone. When she ran out of skin, Shaw grabbed the hem of Root’s top and tugged it up over her head. The fake glasses went flying in the process, but neither of them seemed to mind.

Shaw was unwilling to be a hair’s breadth away from the brunette for even a second. While her fingers worked to undo Root’s bra, her teeth found the old scar on Root’s left shoulder. She was rewarded with a loud moan and Root arching her back towards her, her fingers digging into Shaw’s spine. Once Root’s small breasts were laid bare, Shaw grabbed one in each hand, squeezing and running her thumbs over the peaked nipples. At the same time her hot tongue drew circles around the permanent signature she’d left on Root's body.

The feel of Shaw everywhere but where she needed her most was becoming too much for Root. She found herself unabashedly grinding against Shaw’s thigh - a rhythmic rolling of her hips that felt heavenly but wasn’t relieving the pressure. When Shaw leaned over to take a nipple into her mouth, Root reached around and pulled them together as hard as she could, her grinding becoming more insistent.

Shaw could already smell their mixed arousal permeating the air between them. Where their bodies met she reached down and replaced her thigh with her right hand, feeling the warmth radiating through Root’s jeans. She squeezed.

“Is there something you need?” she taunted, her voice husky with desire.

That was _her_ line. But Root could play along.

“I need you inside me,” Root breathed, and thrust against Shaw’s palm for emphasis. Shaw smirked up at her.

“Ask nicely.”

Root slid her fingers into Shaw’s hair.

“Please.” She wore that insincere half-pout that Sameen loved to hate.

“...less nicely.”

“Fuck me, Sameen,” Root practically snarled. Her hands migrated to Shaw’s shoulders and shoved her lower. Shaw let Root guide her to her knees, bringing her face to face with the impeding denim. She wrapped her arms around Root’s waist, pulling her close and ramming her nose between her legs, breathing deep the familiar, heady scent. She heard Root moaning above her and felt her fingers return to her hair.

Shaw pulled back and hastily undid the button and zipper before tugging the jeans down around Root’s legs. She took a moment to run her fingertips over the panties and appreciate just how soaked they were… found her entrance and pressed firmly. Root whimpered and pressed back against Shaw’s digits.

“I know I could get you off just like this,” Shaw boasted as she massaged her through the fabric.

Maybe she shouldn’t be one to gloat, because the look Root gave her just then was almost enough to make her come: She looked afraid at the threat of not getting to feel Sameen inside her, aroused at her touch, and angry at her insubordination all at the same time. She had her right where she wanted her.

“You could, but you won’t.” Her eyes flashed a warning. Of course, Shaw liked being punished by Root, but she doubted they had the time for an orgasm-denial-marathon today.

“You’re right, ‘cause I wanna taste you first.” Shaw grabbed the panties on either side and unceremoniously slid them down Root’s thighs to join the jeans. Root was making her “oh god yes” face. She didn’t have to look up to know that. With an evil smirk she gave her a long, fat lick and relished in how Root shuddered and moaned at the contact.

“Was that good? Do you want more?” she asked rhetorically. Oh, Sameen was _way_ too pleased with herself.

“Sameen Shaw, I will end you,” Root growled, but the threat was just music to her ears.

“Do that and you’ll have to get yourself off.” But the truth was, Root wasn’t the only one coming unhinged. That hot, wet, inviting space between her legs was calling to Shaw. The need to fill it was as much a compulsion as a desire. She watched with bated breath as Root’s body spread to accommodate her fingers and they disappeared into her knuckle by knuckle.

“Oh god yes,” Root cried and bucked against her hand. The fingers tangled in Shaw’s hair pulled her back to her clit, and Shaw was all too happy to first grip it gently between her teeth, then begin sucking as her fingers worked purposefully in and out. Root’s every breath turned into a gasp of ecstasy, her hips grinding to meet Shaw’s mouth. Sameen kept her pace steady and waited for the telltale signs…

When Root’s breath hitched and Shaw was practically being smothered between her legs, she abruptly broke away, stood, and planted a wet kiss on Root’s lips, filling her nostrils with her own scent. As soon as the shock subsided, Root dug her nails into Shaw’s nape and growled into her mouth. A smug grin was plastered on Shaw’s face when she pulled back.

“You’re not cute,” Root scolded, but even as her body trembled at having been so close, she had to admit that Shaw looking up at her - flush with eyes alight - was pretty effing hot.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s my chief concern here.” Still smirking, Shaw planted a forearm low on Root’s sternum and pinned her firmly against the car. Her right hand went back to work between Root’s legs, three fingers this time pumping away and curling just the way Root liked it. The taller woman’s hips instinctively found a rhythm to match Shaw’s, but she was quieter now, watching Shaw through half-lidded eyes as though she couldn’t be trusted to carry out her mission. Plus, she loved watching her work: the swaying strands of loose hair, Shaw’s slightly parted lips panting out her own need, the hunger in her eyes...

Shaw had just started to make passes at Root’s clit when a soft click echoed down into the subway. Root’s eyes darted past Shaw to the dark stairwell.

“Shaw, someone’s coming,” she hissed. But Shaw didn’t falter or even spare a glance behind her.

Instead she brought her lips to Root’s good ear and whispered, “You.”

In the same instant Shaw ground her palm against Root’s clit, curling her fingers deliciously, and that was all it took: Root threw her head back and moaned softly as wave after wave ripped through her and her inner muscles clenched for all they were worth. Shaw’s forehead came to rest on Root’s chest as she savored the sound and feel of her efforts.

But someone’s footsteps were becoming more audible, and Root didn’t fancy (literally) getting caught with her pants down. Shaw’s fingers withdrew as soon as she felt her orgasm subside, allowing Root to hurriedly don her jeans.

The unexpected visitor turned out to be John: currently glued to the bottom flight of stairs with a deer-in-the-headlights look aimed at the subway car.

Shaw was glaring over her shoulder at him, eyes shining with a feral, possessive brightness that made him wonder, just for an instant, if he was in physical danger for interrupting them. He could tell Root’s hands were covering her breasts, but he couldn’t see much anyway with Shaw spread protectively like she was. Regardless, ever the gentleman, he immediately diverted his gaze once it registered that he wasn’t imagining things; Shaw and Root had totally been going at it in their shared space.

“I… brought food,” he offered lamely, holding up two plastic bags the women recognized from their favorite deli.

Their moment was apparently over. Shaw casually handed Root her bra and turned to face John, while Root turned the opposite way and began clothing herself. The silence stretched for a moment, with Shaw seeing nothing to apologize for and John looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“So, what’d you get me?” she finally asked. John’s shoulders relaxed a smidge.

“Your usual, with an unholy amount of peperoncinos.” John headed for the computer desk and paused before placing the bags down, looking from the table to Shaw and back again. His eyes widened.

“We didn’t do it there,” she informed him with a huff of frustration. John maintained eye contact anyway as he set the food down, just in case she suddenly remembered something.

Root waltzed over, torso now covered, and smiled sweetly up at Reese. Her cheeks were still flushed.

“Thanks for lunch, John. You shouldn’t have.” The look in her eyes and tilt of her head told him, ‘Really. You shouldn’t have.’

“Not a problem,” he replied, offering one of his small smiles. “I got you a veggie panini. Hope that’s alright.”

“Works for me.”

Shaw made for the nearest bag, but something stopped her. She glanced at her fingers.

John suddenly looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the greater Manhattan area.

“So, uh… Bear could use a walk...” Shaw suggested. John gratefully took the out and went to look for the dog’s leash. Once his back was turned Shaw surreptitiously wiped her fingers on the back of her thigh. Root shot her an amused smirk. Shaw just frowned.

When John re-emerged from the car with dog in tow, his broad shoulders were slumped in mock resignation.

“Come on, Bear. It seems we’re not wanted here,” he told the dog, but his eyes were on Root and Shaw as he said it. The latter just crossed her arms and smiled as he turned and retreated back the way he came.

With hands behind her back and a bounce in her step, Root came face to face with Shaw and kept moving forward, forcing the shorter woman backwards across the floor until she bumped into the table. There was no escape, as Root leaned forward even then. Shaw arched her back until she had to plant a hand to steady herself.

Root’s face shone with mischief and the afterglow of arousal.

“John already thinks we did it here,” she said carefully. Shaw couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much in a single day.


End file.
